A New Life in Seattle

August, 2018

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Give My Tootsie Role a Hug

Note: the following true tale of how I passed myself off as a woman in order to break into print first appeared on Authors Electric, the great collective book, February 12, 2013. http://authorselectric.blogspot.com

I had a date with a model last night. I
can’t talk about her, but I can tell you this: the road to hell is truly paved
with the best dimensions. Then again, years ago, I found the road to heaven’s
gate in a cross-country move.

Act 1

Time:
the middle-Eighties, when we still sent letters.

I set out from San Francisco, where
a strayed loin is the quickest way to get from Pant A to Pant B. Destination:
New York City, the heart of the publishing action. I arrived with fire in the belly—and more in
need of a fresh start than any hundred writers.

Why? In the previous decade I’d sent
out thousands of queries. Though I now had something wild and fresh, a query
recognized as mine would call to mind yesterday’s cabbage.

I had a chance in Gotham to change
the way agents perceived me. And I hadn’t come unarmed: I’d arrived at a clear understanding
that the query process was weighted in favor of agents. With hundreds of queries
a week to tear through, they were looking for grounds to reject—not to read. And
grounds for rejection included far more than grammatical howlers. NYC agents might
guess my probable income from my Queens address. My age, job and education could be turned
against me too.

So the playing field had to be
leveled.

First moves: I rented a mid-town mail
drop and bribed the manager to allow me to call my box number a Suite. I kept
my life out of my queries, declining any specifics. Education? “A good school.” Age? “Young, but not absurdly.” Employment? ‘I live comfortably on an inheritance.’ And…

My nomme
de guerre? Kelly Wilde.

Act 2

One year later. Same old bleep. But how could this be happening? I’d found my voice; my query rocked; I even
had a Good Address.

One night I recalled having read
that about 80% of agents and editors were female. What if I…Well, did I dare…

I tried adding one more e to my pen name: Kelley Wilde. Talk about Yeah, Baby moments! But I’d have to alter my handwriting, too, to
keep my gender under wraps when I signed my letters. And, like good ole Dustin in Tootsie, I began to think continuously
of little touches and trademark phrases that belonged to Kelley-Welley.

Act 3

One day I received the letter that all
writers dream of: The opening pages just blew me away…I’ve got to read your manuscript…I
heard cash register ringing when I saw your name!

Was Kelley-Welley happy? Oooo, I could have danced all night—and did
when X, the Pennsylvania-based agent, agreed to represent me. She loved my book, The Suiting, and wanted to know allllll about me. She asked me to call her, collect, any time.

Well, here the comedy began: though
X had never asked me, I knew that she thought I was female. Obviously, I couldn’t call her. But I didn’t
want to offend her, and so…Kelley-Welley was given Big Backstory Blues: a
childhood tragedy had resulted in both shyness and a fear of phones. One day when we met, though, we’d be like old
friends and hug away like maniacs. This went on, absurdly. A sort of race against the clock with hopes
that X could land a sale before the jig was up.

One night Kelley-Welley possessed me
while I was composing a letter to X. To my horror, I found myself typing: “Oh, X, it isn’t fair! Why did I have to be both smoking hot and
shy?” I tried to shred the letter. Failed. I tried to burn it. Failed again. The next morning I barely succeeded in passing
the mailbox in order to trash my lunatic sex kitten outburst. I was getting far
too deeply into character, I knew. And
naughty Kelley-Welley seemed to be stronger than I.

But before I slipped again an offer was
made on The Suiting—the first novel
from a total cipher who claimed to be frightened of phones.

Act 4

The time had come to meet with X. And I decided that sooner was better. So we
arranged our date by post, fifteen years before I’d buy my first computer. Then Kelley-Welley suited up, spruced his
hair, shined his shoes, and bused to Pennsylvania. I recognized X at a glance
by the hurt and confusion I saw in her eyes.

We enjoyed a pleasant lunch and went
over the plans for my next book, since Tor wanted a two-book contract. At the end of lunch, I asked her: Would she have represented me if she’d known
that I wasn’t a woman?

Before you pass judgment, consider her
words: “Honestly, I don’t know. The book was so dark and unsettling…If I’d
known you were a man…” X didn’t have to finish that. If I’d played by the
rules, I’d have gone to my grave without ever selling a book.

Act 5

The changes that followed were
subtle and spaced over the course of a year. X led me through the process, protecting and
advising me, and for that I will always be grateful. But after the first book was published, she
began to grow more distant. And one day my
editor complained that X seldom came to the city and too often did not return
calls. I needed a good New York agent,
she said.

I had my pick of several—and,
wouldn’t you know it, I picked the wrong one.
But we all have our screw-ups and pipers to pay. And once upon a time I played a cool, slick
game of ball when the odds against me were 10,000 to 1.

Let the trumpets sound in honor now
of your own dazzling footwork on a playing field tilted to favor The House.

Coda

Enough talk about publishing. Kelley-Welley is long gone. May I close on a note that is pure Reb
MacRath?

Change your opinions less often than
your undies. But let the same two rules
apply: Keep them fresh. And let your
manner inspire the warmest of wishes for a more intimate look underneath.

Thanks for the feedback and the warm words re the blog, C.C. Under the name Kelley Wilde, I published three books besides The Suiting: Makoto, Mastery and Angel Kiss. All of these were sold as horror, but from the start I'd wanted to write mysteries and suspense. When I found myself 'locked into' horror, I abandoned the name Kelley Wilde and went onto reinvent myself as Reb MacRath. I've published four ebooks on Amazon Kindle--and you can find those titles listed on the top right corner of this blog. Two are hardboiled thrillers--Southern Scotch and The Alcatsraz Correction. The other two are romantic suspense that can be read any time despite their Christmas settings. Coming soon is April Yule--which I feel is the best of all places to begin reading my work. I'm proud of all the ebooks but April Yule's my 'party book' and a wonderful place to begin. Publication date will appear soon on this blog.